by Peter Rimmer
“You mentioned before that you have a Rhodes Scholarship. What’s that?”
“An educational endowment set up by Cecil Rhodes who was up at Oxford after he made his fortune in Africa in the Kimberley diamond fields.”
“So you’re a Rhodes Scholar?”
“That’s right. And I do know Genevieve.”
“Then introduce me when we get to England.”
“Of course.”
“That’s a promise?”
“Of course. We flew right up the Zambezi River to the Victoria Falls where we landed to refuel at the new airfield.”
“Who?”
“Me and Tembo.”
“I never quite know what you are talking about, Tinus.”
“Memories. Sweet memories that never die.”
“Why don’t you write them down?”
“I’m going into business. A man has to be rich to get on in the world. Very rich.”
“How are you going into business?”
“By joining Anglo-American.”
“Then you’ll be an employee.”
“Not when I am right at the top. Right at the top, I will be a director of the company. And rich.”
“You’re boasting.”
“I never boast. Vain boasting is a waste of time. Ever since I went to Bishops, I set myself goals. To fly. To play cricket and rugby for the school. To go up to Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship. To be a director of Africa’s largest mining house. My Uncle Harry says you always have to set yourself difficult goals.”
Vera took him by the hand. She liked him but not when he went off about Uncle Harry. The boy was too young for her, but there was no one else on the boat. In a week they would arrive in England and go their separate ways. The idea of a boy out of school knowing Genevieve was too far-fetched. Everyone had a second name. Bastards – if the poor girl was a bastard – generally took their mother’s family name if the father had not stayed around to get married. The boy had a vivid imagination though; what with the sea air and constant closeness, she had a good mind to seduce him before the ship reached England. He was an athlete with a perfect body. Seducing people would be part of her job in London if she was to get anywhere with a career on the stage. Even Genevieve was said by the newspapers in South Africa to have slept her way to the top, which had to be true; the girl had not sued the newspapers for libel. Then again, she thought, she only read the occasional newspaper when a scandalous headline caught her eye.
When they reached the small swimming pool on the top deck, King Neptune was sitting in his throne in full regalia. The crew had erected a small dais next to the pool. Vera had forgotten the ceremony of crossing the line. Passengers who had not before crossed the equator were given parchment scrolls by King Neptune. Vera had crossed twice before and received a scroll with her name on when she was ten years old and travelling to England with her parents. Now being alone made the idea of seducing Tinus possible.
“Do you have your own cabin, Tinus?”
“No. Share it with a chap from school who’s going up to Cambridge.”
“What a pity. Are they going to throw anyone in the pool?”
“They always do. Part of the ceremony.”
“Why don’t you volunteer to be thrown in? I know you are a good swimmer. Didn’t you say your great-grandfather started this shipping line?”
“We don’t own it anymore.”
“Why ever not?”
“My Uncle Harry disappeared in the Congo while trying to fly from England to Rhodesia. He was legally presumed dead. When he came back, the family shares in the company had been sold.”
“Why didn’t Uncle Harry demand his shares back?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I'm sure it is.”
Vera was giving Tinus a knowing look, which told him she did not believe a word he said. She almost had her tongue in her cheek. Behind King Neptune hung a row of lifeboats on davits that caught her eye. The open boats were covered in tarpaulins tied on by ropes to their sides and easy to release in an emergency. There was a walkway at the level of the hanging lifeboats with iron steps leading up to them from the deck behind King Neptune. In five days’ time, she would be in the safest part of her monthly cycle, which made her speculate.
“Could you climb up to that walkway behind his majesty?”
“Of course.”
“At night?”
“Why ever not?”
“With me?”
“What for? Look, they are throwing my friend from school into the pool. It’s his first time over the equator… Well done, Roberts! Well done! Jolly good show.” Then he turned to Vera. “Have you got your costume on under your clothes?”
“Yes. My dress comes off in a flash.”
“Come on then. Once the victim has been thrown in, the ceremony is over.”
Vera smiled, a little less sure of herself. The boy was completely innocent. A virgin. The best excitement a girl of twenty-three could have; an eighteen-year-old virgin straight out of school; wicked, plain wicked.
2
Seven days later Andre Cloete met the boat at Southampton. He was driving an open two-seater Morgan sports car, its three wheels glittering with aluminium trim. The two friends had not seen each other since Christmas 1933 at Hastings Court. Instead of paying for a trip home to Cape Town in 1934, Andre’s father had bought him the Morgan.
When the friends shook hands it was brief and casual, befitting two undergraduates. Andre was wearing his Oxford second eleven blazer. On his head at an angle was a boater, and on the back of the car was strapped the cabin trunk Tinus had packed on Elephant Walk.
Tinus had said goodbye to his cabin-mate Roberts after breakfast. It had taken an hour to clear customs with the rest of the passengers. Vera had waved goodbye from the other side of the customs shed. With her was an older man who had met her when the ship docked. Vera had said the day before she was being met by her theatrical agent. She had on a wide-brimmed hat with blue ribbons. The white dress made her tiny waist look even smaller than Tinus remembered from the lifeboat when he had almost got both of his hands to touch around her middle as he hoisted her up the vertical metal ladder that had taken them to the lifeboat in the dark of the night, both of them sneaking out of their cabins on the night of the farewell ball.
After days of clear skies and millions of stars in the tropical heavens, layer upon layer of stars going deeper into space than Tinus could imagine, the night sky was overcast and getting her up the ladder was more difficult than he had first imagined it would be. Tinus had unlaced one side of the tarpaulin, the side facing the sea. There was a heavy swell rolling the ship. Thankfully for what they were about to do, both of them were good sailors. In the bottom of the lifeboat on top of three cork life jackets Tinus found Vera had already taken off her panties in her cabin. It was all over in ten seconds without Tinus feeling her as he went inside the excited girl. After that, she did something to herself in the dark under the tarpaulin before they went back to their cabins.
As Tinus waved to her in the customs shed, he doubted he would see her again. After the event in the lifeboat they had barely spoken. Genevieve and the introduction were no longer mentioned; Tinus just hoped the girl was not going to be pregnant.
“Have a good trip?” asked Andre Cloete, straightening up from putting his boater under the dashboard.
“Very good, Andre. I like the car. How fast does it go?”
“They say it can do eighty on a straight road. Present from the pater. Spring in England is the best time of year, don’t you think? Lots of flowers and that sort of thing. Start of the cricket season. You been playing?”
“A little bit.”
“Mater wrote you were captain at school.”
“Waiting for a place at Oxford kept me at school for an extra term. Just the oldest pupil, Andre.”
“You’re modest. Who was the girl in the picture hat waving to you in the customs shed?”
“Just a girl I met on the
boat.”
“Well, you have a surprise waiting for you at Hastings Court. Genevieve is staying with your Uncle Harry. Sorry to hear about your great-grandfather.”
“Thanks, old chap. I always called him grandfather. Thought him indestructible… What is Genevieve doing at Hastings Court?”
“She and her father are visiting. Did you know they have the same mismatched eyes?”
“You called in on your way down, I suppose?”
“Spent last night with them to be in time for the boat. Bit out of the way. Your Uncle Harry said it would save me the cost of a hotel room. Anyway, I like staying at Hastings Court.”
“Hear you’re playing first eleven for Oxford this summer.”
“Never count your chickens before they hatch.”
“You are too modest.”
“Put your hat under the dashboard. There’s a piece of straight road up ahead. What was her name?”
“Vera.”
They arrived at the old house with the façade of turrets and battlements in time for tea and straight into a commotion. The pack of spaniels had met Anthony and Beth at the bottom of the driveway as the Morgan turned into the grand entrance to the home that had belonged to his Manderville ancestors for centuries. Uncle Harry had inherited the house from his Brigandshaw grandfather who had bought the house from Sir Henry Manderville under dubious circumstances, circumstances Tinus had yet to fully understand; his grandmother Emily said some skeletons were best left in the cupboard, whatever that was meant to mean.
Since eloping with his grandfather Sebastian, Uncle Harry’s father, grandmother Emily had never been home to England until she brought her father back to Hastings Court to be buried in the Manderville family mausoleum. To everyone’s surprise she had returned to Rhodesia on the next boat saying Madge, Tinus’s mother, could not run Elephant Walk on her own, which to Tinus had seemed at the time strange. Ralph Madgwick ran Elephant Walk as the manager, his mother ran the houses in the family compound while Paula his sister ran the school for the children of the black workers. There was even talk of offering Ralph Madgwick a share in the farm to keep him on as manager until Uncle Harry came home and Ralph could go off on his own farm with substantial capital from the sale of his share in Elephant Walk.
The first thing Tinus saw of his English family was cousin Beth careering into the rhododendron bushes on her bicycle, the dogs yapping with delight at her ankles as she pedalled to get away. Cousin Anthony, back from his prep school for the night, was leaning on the handlebars of his bicycle smiling at the ruckus as Andre Cloete slowly turned the Morgan into the drive.
“Why don’t you do something, Anthony?”
“Hello, Tinus. Heard you were coming. Hello, Andre. I like your car. What is it?”
“A Morgan. Don’t you think you should help your sister?”
“Why? She kicked Gunner who gave her a nip.”
“Now she’s stuck in the bushes. Be a good chap. I’ve got a cricket bat for you. Are you all right, Beth?” Tinus called.
“No. Gunner wants to bite me.”
“No he doesn’t, silly. It’s all a game,” said her brother.
“See you both up at the house for tea,” said Tinus.
“Can I go for a ride?”
“Only if you help your sister. Gunner! Come here.”
The dogs broke away from the bushes to rush back to the car, barking with excitement at something new. Tinus understood; the dogs, like the dogs on Elephant Walk, were bored.
“I told you they were only playing. Do you want some help, old girl?” called Anthony, his face on his hands on the handlebars.
“How old are they?” said Andre as they drove up the tree-lined driveway away from the gatehouse.
“Twelve and ten, or round about.”
“And he calls his sister old girl! What’s it all coming to?”
“There’s Uncle Harry coming down the steps.”
By the time they got out of the car, the boater was back on Andre Cloete’s head.
“Beth rode her bike into the bushes. Nice to see you again, sir.”
“What’s all this ‘sir’? Is she all right?”
“Gunner tried to nip her heels.”
“Come up. Your aunt is somewhere. She likes houseguests now we live in the country. You’ll have lots of good company. Tomorrow you and I will go for a walk on our own. I want to hear everything without a rush. You’re just in time for tea. Thank you for picking him up, Andre. The tea’s laid out on the lawn at the back of the house. Mrs Craddock has baked you some fresh scones. It’s such a beautiful day we can all take tea outside for once. I never get used to not having a dry season when you know for certain there won’t be any rain for months and months. You remember Genevieve, Tinus? She’s staying with us for a few days with her father and agent. I think you met William Smythe. They are both famous now. As a foreign correspondent and a film star, will you believe it? My first wife, Genevieve’s aunt Lucinda, would have been so proud. I can still hear the shot that killed her but there’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. Then we have Jesse from Kentucky, an acquaintance of Cousin George in America.”
“Jesse? Why is he visiting?” said Tinus.
“To quiz us about our farming methods. Jesse’s twenty-nine years old and can’t keep his eyes off Genevieve… Good. Mrs Craddock must have sent them.”
Tinus looked back to where his uncle was looking. At the bottom of the steps that led up to the terrace of the big house two young men were lifting his cabin trunk from the bracket at the back of the Morgan.
“Always surprised they don’t fall off a perch like that,” said his Uncle Harry.
“The leather straps attached to the sides of the boot hold it down,” said Andre.
“Ah, there she is with a basket of cut flowers. Go and say hello to your Aunt Tina.”
“Why didn’t you warn me about this Jesse from Kentucky?” said Tinus in a whisper to Andre as they watched the trunk being brought up the stairs. His aunt had seen them and disappeared into the house through the French doors. Tinus waved but his aunt had already gone inside.
“Thought he’d make a pleasant surprise. Oh, and he’s anti the empire. Anything to do with British colonialism. He’ll tell you all about that I’m sure. Mind you, as Afrikaners we also don’t think much of British imperialism, Mr Oosthuizen.”
“So why the interest in our farming methods?”
“He’s a tobacco farmer. Wanted to meet you and your Uncle Harry and learn about your farming methods in Rhodesia.”
“I look forward to meeting him! When are we driving up to Oxford?”
“Genevieve makes up for him. She’s even better looking than I last remembered. She talks a lot about you, Tinus. What did you do to her?”
“We understand each other. Do you know, my legs are still a bit wobbly from the rolls and swells of the boat.”
“Were you seasick?”
“With a man they called the Pirate as a great-grandfather, not likely. Vera wasn’t seasick either.”
“Ah, Vera. Do those chaps know where they are taking your trunk?”
“I have absolutely no idea, Mr Cloete.”
Uncle Harry was looking at them both with avuncular approval.
“Come on then,” he said. “You’ll be in the same room as last time, where the under-gardeners are taking your trunk. Even with a motor mower it takes five gardeners to keep the grounds under control. I was lucky to get my money back from the government or we would not be able to afford any of this. Tina has opened up all the spare bedrooms so she can invite lots of people from London to stay. Kind of a compromise. I don’t want a London townhouse anymore and Tina won’t go back to Rhodesia. So London comes to us in the country. There’s always a bit of give and take in life. You’ll both find that out. You can’t have five children running around a townhouse but they can run around here. It’s not the African bush but they can’t have everything.”
“Do they want to live on Elephant Walk?�
� asked Tinus.
“I’ve never dared ask them.”
That night at dinner in the dining hall, where family legend had the Pirate dying all on his own at the long table, Tinus found himself sitting down to his supper in a dinner jacket, thankfully without the requirement from his Aunt Tina to wear tails and white tie.
When Tinus first saw Jesse, he giggled and Andre gave his shin a kick under the table. The man was sitting down in a maroon-coloured tuxedo with what looked like a bootlace strung round his neck in place of a tie. They had said few words but already disliked each other intensely, the giggle causing Jesse to glare at Tinus openly for a full five seconds after the man had sat down.
Taking a sip of wine, Jesse gave Genevieve the once-over and winked at Tinus knowing it would not help their relationship. Tinus blanched and for the first time Uncle Harry looked uncomfortable. Aunt Tina in a dress Tinus knew had cost his uncle a fortune, missed the exchange. William Smythe, the now famous foreign correspondent, was smiling at the interplay. Genevieve, looking gorgeous, gave Tinus just the hint of a smile while her father screwed a monocle in his left eye, the one the colour of coal, and gave Tinus a quizzical stare.
Then the waiter Aunt Tina had managed to dress in Manderville livery started to place the first course in front of the seated guests, making Tinus glad his great-grandfather, the man who had installed the first pull-and-let-go flush toilet in Rhodesia, was in the cedar trees at the back of the house and well out of the way. Never, ever, as far as Tinus knew, had anyone dressed for dinner on Elephant Walk where they sat down most nights on the stoep of the main house, the long veranda guarded by windows of mosquito-gauze against the flying bugs, dressed in shorts and open shirts, bush hats left on the rack standing at the end of the table, men, women and children, with the dogs under the white painted table hoping for some luck to fall their way.
Looking at the minute amount of food sitting in front of him on an enormous porcelain plate with the Manderville family crest emblazoned on the side, only the second time he had seen the crest, Tinus now knew why his grandmother had caught the first available boat back to Africa after delivering her father to the cedar trees, a place Tinus had visited after tea to say a last farewell to the lovely man he had always called grandfather.
